Heartache Motel: Three Interconnected Mystery Novellas (Henery Press Mystery Novellas) (3 page)

“Watch what you say to me.” This voice was deeper, but no less angry. And it sounded familiar. I thought it might be the dude we’d just met at the other hotel, Ron what’s-his-face with the cape. But with the echo and all the yelling, it was hard to tell. “I’ll find them. And it doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve got enough to make a deal.”

The ice machine was the old scoop kind. Anybody could reach in with their filthy hands and grab a cube. Or take a whiz. I decided to forego the ice and instead, shoved a dollar into the soda machine.

“That’s not the point,” the first voice said. “I made a promise and if I can’t deliver, I’m as good as dead. If you screw this up for me, Aaron, so help me God, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Aaron? Were Aaron and Sparkly Cape Ron the same person?

“Don’t you threaten me, you little piss-ant,” said the second voice. “I’m the one who put my ass on the line. Don’t you forget that.”

Not liking the direction their conversation had taken and desperate to get away before one of these guys found me eavesdropping, I pushed the Coke button for the third time. Finally, with a
thunk
, the can rolled down the machine and into the slot.

“Shh, you hear that?” asked the first voice.

I froze. I thought about that bullet hole Roxy found. I grabbed the can and ran as fast as I could through the door and back down the hall, peeking over my shoulder to make sure no one followed.

I was halfway home when I ran smack dab into something blocking my path. “Oomf.” My left cheek took the brunt of the hit.

“Hey there, you all right?” His accent was as smooth as a shot of Southern Comfort.

Cupping my cheek with my free hand, I swung my head and came face to face with an Elvis impersonator. Why didn’t anyone ever imitate young, hot Elvis? And if anyone could, it was this guy. Tall, broad shoulders, lean waist. Instead of sporting leather pants the way God intended, he wore a white jumpsuit and wide belt that sparkled with a dusting of rhinestones. Dark, oversized sunglasses hid his eyes. I wondered if the sideburns were real. For sure the hair wasn’t. It was more synthetic than the bedspreads in this place.

“Where’s the fire, darlin’?”

A door to my right opened. “What’s going on? Some of us are trying to sleep.” Ah, Ginger Elvis with the perfect pompadour. He was more than a little husky and wore nothing but boxer shorts. The tip of his dingdong stared at me from the opening in his fly.

“Hey, man. You’re exposing yourself to the lady,” said the clothed, handsome impersonator.

“Sorry about that.” Boxer Shorts adjusted himself. “There now, Elvis has left the building.” He gave me a saucy wink.

Eww
. I darted around the man blocking my path and sped off to my evil clown room. After slamming the door, I slid the chain home.

“What’s wrong, Rose?” Ma asked. She sat propped against the headboard, a book in her hands.

I stood there, panting. “I just heard two men arguing. I think one might have been that Ron guy we met earlier. They sounded really angry. I ran into Elvis. Literally. And I saw a guy’s penis.”

“Well, you’ve had quite a night. How was the penis? Anything to write home about?”

Roxy walked out of the bathroom wearing Hello Kitty pajamas. “Forget about a shower. The water’s freezing. Why didn’t you bring me a Coke?”

FOUR

Bleary-eyed, we met outside our rooms the next morning. While that was Joe’s default mode, Roxy could barely keep her eyes open. Even Axton was dragging.

“The guy in the next room kept singing
Love Me Tender
,” he said. “All night long. He wouldn’t shut up.”

“Ma’s snoring was off the charts,” I whispered. “Like a three hundred pound truck driver with a deviated septum. I didn’t sleep at all.” Even pressing the pillow to my ears brought no relief. “You know that guy we met in the hotel last night, Ron? I think I overheard him having a wicked argument. Like death threats and crap.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised by anything in this gross hellhole. And you know I’m not that picky,” he said.

I did know. He managed to live with Stoner Joe after all.

Ma, on the other hand, was fresh and eager to start the day. “I’m so excited, kids. Graceland. We’ll walk where the king himself trod.”

We took the shaky elevator to the lobby where impersonators stood in small clusters, chatting and laughing—a few sang Christmas carols near the sad tree. Roxy wore a rose print dress with a kimono bodice. She teamed it with knee-high pink platform boots. Normally she was an attention grabber, but in a lobby filled with Elvi and drag queens, she barely got a second glance.

She and the boys stepped outside, while I waited for Ma. She marched up to the counter to demand satisfaction about the hot water situation.

That tall, handsome Elvis I’d run into the night before moved from one group to the other, chatting and back-slapping. When he spotted me, he sauntered my way. “How are you this morning? Are you traumatized by the encounter with little Elvis?”

“Barely. But I have seen one before, you know.”

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “There are some pretty crazy characters around here.  I thought I heard some yelling in the stairwell last night.  What was that all about?”

“Yeah, they sounded pretty intense.”

“What were they fighting about, anyway?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” I said. “There were some threats made. I don’t know the particulars.”

“What kind of threats?” He sounded casual, but his hands clenched his wide belt so tightly, his knuckles whitened. I started to get that feeling, the one I have when someone’s dealing me a load of bullshit. And he was very inquisitive for a simple impersonator.

“Why do you care?” I asked. “Do you know them?”

“What? No,” he said with a little laugh. “Just curious.” He tipped his head. “Have a good day, now.”

Ma walked to where I stood, staring over her shoulder at the mystery man. “Who was that, Rose?”

“I bumped into him last night.” I didn’t think he’d been standing in the hallway by accident. But he wasn’t my business. This motel was full of weirdoes, he was probably just one more banana in the bunch. I dropped him from my mind.

We met up with the others just outside the front door. As we made our way to the car, I turned to Ma. “What’s your connection to Elvis anyway?”

“Yeah, what’s the story?” Roxy asked around a yawn. “You said he had a place in your heart.”

Ma slowed and let Ax and Stoner Joe get further ahead of us. “I’ve never told anyone this, but in the sixties, after Elvis had his big comeback, I went to see him in concert with my girlfriend, Maureen.”

“The one who just had her knee replaced?” I asked.

“Yep, that’s her. Anyway, we were sitting in the seventh row and some of Elvis’ entourage scouted the audience, looking for girls to go backstage. They picked me.” She tapped her chest. “I knew it wasn’t just about meeting the king and getting an autograph, so I didn’t go. I loved my husband, Frank, with every bone in my body, but I always wondered about it. What would have happened if I’d gone backstage? It would have been a night to remember.”

Ma handed me the car keys and we climbed into the LeSabre. Before heading to Graceland, we grabbed breakfast at a fast food place along the way. At the visitor center, Ma paid for the VIP tour, which meant we got to line jump.

Outside the mansion, a nativity scene stood in the front yard. Christmas lights outlined the exterior and inside, poinsettias framed each step of the stairway.

Apparently, Elvis loved Christmas. Decorated trees, brightly wrapped packages, and stuffed animals in Santa hats filled the rooms.

Completely entranced, Ma oohed and ahhed, snapping her camera at every detail. She was particularly fascinated with the jungle room and its stone wall waterfall.

But we spent most of our time in the trophy room ogling the gold and platinum records, the plethora of costumes. There were probably close to fifty people meandering about. Cameras and phones shuttered almost nonstop. Ma had me clicking away as she and Roxy posed next to every jumpsuit. 

Axton and Stoner Joe found us thirty minutes later. “Joe’s getting hungry. It’s time for lunch,” Ax said.

Joe stood with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his ripped jeans. “Lunch. For real, dude.”

Ma shook her head. “If you think we’re getting out of here before seeing everything, you’re crazier than you look, hon.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of granola bars, doling them out to each of us. “Here. This should tide you over.”

Joe ripped open the package with his teeth and shoved the whole bar in his mouth. A docent immediately jogged over.

“Sir, there’s no food or beverage in the trophy room.”

With his cheeks stuffed fuller than a squirrel’s in fall, Joe nodded and thrust the wrapper at the man. “No problem, amigo.” At least that’s what I thought he said. He may have called the man a Winnebago—no telling with Joe.

The docent scrunched his nose, as Joe wandered off. “Your friend is…interesting,” 

Axton nodded. “Yeah, he gets that a lot.”

Roxy and Ma went one way, while Ax and I wandered through a corridor where he pointed out a movie poster. “
Spinout.
That was my favorite. Nanny Bird liked
Girls! Girls! Girls!
”

“What was so great about
Spinout?
” I asked.

“Elvis drove a racecar and sang in a band. He was total chick bait.”

Ax broke down the various film plots for me. Mostly, Elvis was a cool cat, did cool stuff, got the cute girl, and sang about it. Just in different scenarios—crop duster, rodeo rider, photographer—but the gist was basically the same. 

Eventually, we met up again and wound our way to the Meditation Garden where Elvis was buried alongside his parents. Ma pulled a wadded tissue from her jacket pocket and sniffed into it. Axton blinked several times and turned his back on us, staring out over the rolling hills of the property.

We left the mansion in a somber mood, but once we were back at the visitor’s center, Joe’s empty stomach made these weird, mournful noises and broke the tension. So in deference to his severe munchies, we stopped at a fifties style diner for lunch.

“We’re eating at a diner?
Really
?” Roxy asked, smacking her gum. “We couldn’t shake things up a little?”

“Hush, hon, this is fun. And I don’t have to serve for a change,” Ma said. “I’m getting something fried. To hell with watching my cholesterol. If the doctor doesn’t like it, he can kiss my wrinkly rump.”

I tried in vain to keep that mental image from entering my brain.

When my phone vibrated, I glanced down at the screen. Sullivan. “Order me a cheeseburger, guys. I’m going to take this outside.”

Roxy smirked. “Must be Mr. Hottie.”

I rolled my eyes and hustled out the door onto the sun-drenched sidewalk. The diner was busy, so I stood with my back against the building as people flowed past me.

I hit the talk button. “Hello?”

“How’s Memphis?” Sullivan. Just hearing his deep, rich voice resonated with something inside me, making me tingle just a smidge.

“It’s a trip. Axton invited Stoner Joe to tag along, the hotel lost our reservation, and we’re staying in a shithole of a motel filled with Elvis impersonators and an Ann-Margret drag queen.”

There was a very long pause. “Of course you are. You’ll be home by Christmas?”

I pictured him sprawled out in the middle of a bed next to a roaring fire, the flames flickering warm light across his honeyed skin. In my imagination, he wore a Santa hat and little else. “You bet.”

“Good.” Then he hung up. Yeah, he did that, too. And it annoyed the ever loving crap out of me. How hard was it to say goodbye?

We spent the rest of the afternoon looking at Elvis stuff: planes, cars, trinkets. It was in the gift shop that Ma saw Ron, the cape guy from the night before. He wore normal clothes today and he greeted her like an old friend.

“Ma!”

“Ron, where’s your cape? You looked pretty snazzy in that thing.”

“I’m saving it for the show. Did you get a room at the Heartache?”

“We sure did,” she said with a frown. “I’ve got to tell you, it was kind of a letdown. There’s a bullet hole in our wall and men are flashing their privates in the hallway.”

Ron nodded. “It’s got character all right. You’re going to be in the bar tonight, right? Watch my performance?” He swung his arm in an arc and executed a couple hip thrusts.

“We’ll be there, won’t we gang?” Ma asked.

Roxy, Ax, and I mumbled. We clearly didn’t share her level of enthusiasm.

Ron said goodbye and walked out of the store. I couldn’t stop myself from trotting after him. His life was none of my concern, but that argument last night sounded pretty serious. For some reason, I was worried about him. He seemed like a decent guy.

“Hey, Ron,” I said.

He stopped and turned toward me, smiling brightly and squinting against the sun. “Hey, I never caught your name.”  He dug around in his pocket, pulling out his car keys and a familiar pink key fob Sharpied with the number four-oh-four.

“I’m Rose. Look, I overheard you arguing with some other guy in the stairwell last night.”

His smile disappeared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His words didn’t reassure me, instead they convinced me I was right. Ron had been threatened.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. That fight—it got pretty heated.”

“Rose,” he patted my shoulder, “you seem like a nice girl. But stay out of my business. It’s for your own good.”

Well, that put me in my place. He spun and strode away. I went back inside and tried to put him from my mind as I shopped for Elvis key chains.